It was a lovely, sunny day in Ashenvale. Well, the sun was up at least. The almost impenetrable roof of foliage that covered the land prevented all but a few beams of light from ever finding their way down to the surface. It was enough light to travel by, but the ancestral home of the kaeldori was still one of shadows and unwanted surprises.

Thankfully for the likes of Charcoal, Gha'dwin, James and Rummsfeld there weren't any bands of elves large enough to stage an attack on the convoy of Horde troops and supplies they traveled with. They'd already suffered one such attack two days ago; hails of arrows flying through the air and dark-skinned killers hiding in the shadows. Unfortunately for one group of the attacking force the wagon they chose to hit contained more than just a few orc and troll grunts, and soon found themselves put to fire and sword. All but one at least, who met the more unfortunate fate of falling prey to a charm spell and winding up as a prisoner. Said elf was nowhere to be seen now, presumably on another wagon and well under guard.

The convoy had borne East at the fork a day or so back at the junction which the Northern end of the Gold Road began. According to the trolls on their wagon, who'd survived the attack due to the wonders of regeneration, they were almost at the Horde's outpost in the region. They hadn't said much about why they'd all been sent out here in the first place. Nor had the group discovered why they, a most unlikely band of comrades, had been sent along with them. The lone orc on the wagon was silently sharpening his axe, staring out into the forest. He'd not been quite the same since his two friends had been killed two days previous.
<span style="font-size:xx-small;">
(Intros and minor CI, if you wish, then we'll get this rolling aproper)</span>

James was silent as well. The mage had felt how the air around them was different since the attack. Before they were simply disliked. Now, there was suspicion in the air, eyes always seemed to be on him as they traveled. He'd become increasingly distant over the past two days, not talking much to anyone.

Now he stroked Timulty's soft fur while feeding him some kind of white, nut-like treat for small rodents. He atleast seemed to be the same as ever. Though the weasel seemed to watch Charcoal's toes now more than he had previously...

Charcoal, despite being shot during the attack, seemed fairly unphased by the whole thing. If asked, she'd explain that such things always happen along roads in the forest; it's really not a big surprise.

Oddly enough, she gave the Orc his space, bit still seemed a bit excited nonetheless.

Gha'dwin for his part was meditating. Or at least trying to. It was the best solution he could come up with to drown out Coal for at least a moment longer. The only one that didn't involve the spirits granting him better control over fire, anyway. So he found himself once again wishing he was better at drowning out background noises.

At least it gave him a chance to wonder... Why WERE we going through the lands of the deranged ELVES of all people? Didn't the higher ups know that something might happen?

And just how long will it be before that crazy undead rogue drove him nuts anyway?

Rummsfeld pretty much kept to himself aswell since the attack two days prior. Leaning back, he tried to relax and rest up for the rest of the journey through Ashenvale while idly surprised at everyone's quiteness.
Guess running around with Coal and James for so long had him used to alittle more active conversation.

The convoy rolled on, idle chatter keeping the troops occupied. James would probably notice suspicious eyes upon him more than a few times. He'd heard that the Horde had no true love of the arcane arts, though they seemed to tolerate it at least.

An hour later they headed North off the road, along a dirt path. The outpost itself wasn't all that large; maybe a half-mile in diameter. A wooden wall constructed out of sharpened tree trunks encircled the entirety of Splintertree Post. Gha'dwin had heard that this is where the Warsong clan of orcs first encountered the night elves. Sentries stood watch in guard towers as the convoy rolled through the gates. As soon as they came to the stop the troops dismounted and began to unpack the wagons. Well, some of them at least. Around half of them were left untouched. The group didn't have time to ponder this much before a troll approached them. He was pretty easy to distinguish from the other trolls by the fact he was significantly larger than them. Rather than possessing the lithe build of his people, this one was heavily muscled, his arms especially so. His tusks arced out to the sides of his face from his mouth, both looking fully capable of goring a man.

He looked over the four of them before speaking to Gha'dwin in trollish.

"::You and them the special reinforcements we been told were coming?::"

"::No peace be taking place in the 'vale. Elves send em walking trees to Hellscream's rest, deer-women too. Killing orc and troll and stepping where they should no be stepping. We be going and ask for em explanation. Em wanting a fight.::"

"::That it do, that it do. Things get worse, we be having full out war in 'vale. Why 'em up and ups be calling you and them here. They be thinking you and them be stopping this before it be getting that way. Commander will tell you more, come::"

The oversized troll gestured with one of his huge, elongated arms and turned, heading towards one of the larger buildings of the outpost. They'd all seen the likes of it before, back in Razor Hill. Barracks, though this one was much larger than one they'd seen back in Durotar. It also had a three story tower rising up from the center of it, atop which a pair of orcs surveyed the new arrivals at Splintertree.

The group followed the troll into the barracks, Coal barely able to contain her excitement at seeing her favourite walking corpse again. Gha'dwin may have shared the news of current events with the others, if he so chose to. Inside they headed to the upper floor and into the main training hall. Seems like this was another orc who liked to greet his visitors in such a place.

What greeted them this time was not a mean, grizzled sergeant berating his troops and whipping them into shape. Instead they were rocked by roaring laughter, though not directed at them. A number of orcs and trolls, just shy of a dozen, were gathered around what would be an unremarkable looking orc, if not for his attire. Rather than conventional armour or clothing he wore a long, sleeveless white jacket, open at the front and bare chest exposed. Upon his head was the skin of a wolf, which Gha'dwin would recognise as one of the usual decorations orc shamans adorned themselves with. Judging from his mannerisms, though, this was no such orc.

">And then she went running, right off into the shadows! And after all her bravado, too!<" he boasted in orcish, the others around him grinning and laughing at his words.

">Boss. Dem's here.<" the large troll grunted in poor orcish. Wolf-Head looked up in response, casting his gaze over the four of them.

">Grom's blood, you are an odd bunch, aren't you? How many of them speak orcish?< he asked, directing the question at the large troll who, in response, simply shrugged.

"Well, best stick with common then. >Back to work, boys. I'll show you the sword later.<"

The group listening to Wolf-Head nodded sharply and headed out of the room. The group got a few odd glances, though Gha was spared such looks.

"Well, welcome to the Vale. I'm guessing Taal here gave you the lowdown on what's up, if you hadn't learnt of it already. So, first off, any ideas about how to sort this out? Off the top of your heads, c'mon."

The orc cleared his throat, possibly signifying he was about to launch into a long explanation, and began.

"I'm sure you know that the main issue between the elves and us has been ever since we first ventured into Ashenvale. We need lumber to house our people and this place is the only viable source of it. The elves don't want us taking any trees. They spout crap about respecting nature, and saying we're desecrating it, confusing genuine need with greed and ignorance. Anyway, since the war against the Burning Legion there's been an on and off cease fire. Fights happen, but it's all small scale. We keep to ourselves and they keep to themselves, for the most part. Until a month ago, anyway.

One day we get a lone man running into the lumber camp, all beat up. Says he and his brothers had gone to pay their respects at Hellscream's resting place, only to find the place occupied by a pack of dryads and a few big, angry walking trees. Tore his siblings apart and he barely made it out of there. We know the elves are involved, hell, the dryads were a part of their forces during the war. We send a messenger out, asking for an explanation. Polite and all. Our scouts find him dead in the woods a week later. So we take a village hostage and ask again, since the damn darkskins only seem to understand a show of force. Of course they go crazy and send out an attack force and things just escalated from there."

He looked more and more agitated as this explanation continued, until at the end he finally looked at his feet, eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, yeah that sounds like the elves all right."

He paused, aparently thinking. He didn't like that he was leaving an opening for Coal to suggest something that would inflame the entire situation even worse, but at the same time he had no ideas of his own. ... And admittedly, her plans did work about half the time.

Some time passed as he thought.

"The more force we show, the more the Elves will respond with violence. Knowing their mindset, they're probably associating this camp with every interaction they've had with the Horde since the settling of Durotar.

"Do you have anything they would want? Even if it's only something that will last us as far as getting a chance to speak. Some natural oddity, some creature they hold in high esteem... Just about anything that doesn't require an agressive move on the Horde's part to obtain?"

He stopepd here. He'd been about to suggest the elf girl they'd captured, but that would be just as inflammatory as anything else, if not more so. Like throwing one of those gnomish fireworks into a campfire.

"Got anything? Got a lumber camp two days South East of here they'd love to have. Besides that? Nothing. Was hoping you lot could come up with an idea besides beating the elves down and me having to turn to the damn Cenarion Circle." He grimaced as he spoke those last words. Nobody there had a clue what he was referring too. Besides Gha'dwin, at least. While druidism and shamanism only shared some roots he'd heard of this Circle before; a neutral, druidic organsiation which included members of all races. Mainly night elf and tauren, though.

"Didn't want it to come to this, but I guess it's either giving in to a few demands or going to war. Anyway, the guy you need to speak too is out at the moment. Probably off organising this little plan of his." Another frown. "Taal will show you to where you'll be bunked up. I'll send Firemane around when he gets back. Big tauren, dresses like a tree. Can't miss him. >Taal, take this lot to their bunks.<"

The large troll nodded in response, beckoning the group to follow him out of the room.

----

A few minutes later the group found themselves in one of the smaller rooms on the upper floor of the same building. Six simple beds occupied it, each with a chest at their feet. Taal left them to wait, talk among themselves or perhaps even venture out and have a look around.

Rummsfeld stood above one of the unoccupied beds and slung some of his gear onto it. He, much like anyother time since he'd arrived, has had nothing to say on the matter. It's just another job for a warrior on the run.
He can atleast feel at peace for knowing his brother is still alive.

Coal stood with her face fixed in a sort of half-grin as she tried to deduce if no word from Jukka was a bad thing. Surely, he could take care of himself...But she had other matters to attend to. She walked towards James' bunk, speaking. "Cheer up-"

Before she could finish, she tripped over her own feet and fell forward, landing on her cheek. "Eee!...Ooh, that kind of hurt."

Time passed, the group chatting among themselves, mulling over current events and taking the opportunity to relax as much as they allowed themselves to. The barracks seemed to get quieter as time went on, the newly arrived troops settling down into temporary quarters and resting up for the day of travel ahead of them.

After little more than an hour, though, there was a knock at the door. The group had little time to react before it opened and in strode a tauren sporting auburn mane and fur. Like all of his kind he was stocky and tall, though just barely taller than Gha'dwin. His attire, a simple brown robe with strangely healthy leaves sewn into it, confirmed his identity. Firemane looked over the group, stroking at his chin with a three-fingered hand as he did so.

"I presume you are those whose coming has been foretold to me. How does this night find you all?"

That statement stopped Gha'dhwin right in his mental tracks. The routine of unpacking his meager belongings and preparing himself mentally to recieve the Spirits' blessings was the same no matter where he went or how long he honed his mind to accept their council. He could do it half-asleep... or so he told himself.

Thing was, Gha'dhwin found himself almost LIKING these people. I mean, they WERE pink like some sort of sick babe, and they'd never get the honor of even their first tusks. Still, they didn't seem to be too terrible so far. And then James had to remind him of the simple truth. This was all a matter of convenience for them. And he shouldn't forget that.... no matter how much he liked them.

"Wit' some luck," Gha eventually let out, "it probably be not comin' t' war with th' elves. I t'ink."

James looked over Firemane curiously. While he'd obviously met a few Tauren in Ratchet, he'd never talked to any of them more than a few words. He knew little of their people and had heard less, so he settled on a short and simple reply for now:

Coal held up one finger, as if she was about to say something, her mouth already hanging open. Then it snapped shut as she furrowed her brow in confusion. She thought for a minute, then looked to Firemane. "...What?"

"All he done tol' us is that you've got yourself a plan." Gha shrugged at the admission, Always confusing when the details get lost. "After dat, I guess he expected us t' have already known. Or somet'ing."

Firemane cleared his throat, brushed his mane with a hand and began to talk.

"Okay then, I'll explain. You know what what's going down around here. The hawks of both sides want to have a big brawl, rekindling the memories of when their people first met. This isn't going to do either side any good in the long term. I know that, the chief here knows that and, thankfully, someone on the other side does as well. He's probably giving a group of elves the same talk I'm giving you now. Anyway, what I need you to do is sort out an elf problem as a gesture of good will. Hopefully you two humans will also help ram home the entire "let's not kill each other" message. Now, what I want you all to do has something to do with this."

He produced a dagger from within his robes, holding it up for the group to see.

"This was found a few weeks ago at a barrow den. Along with a whole load of dead elf druids. Thankfully it's not Horde made, which means someone else did it. What I need you to do is track down the murderers, put them down and come back with evidence of the task. With their dead avenged by the Horde then hopefully the elves will cool down."

"It's three days South of here, more or less. Due to all the goings on in these parts the elves haven't tended to it since the murders. It was fairly isolated to begin with, anyway. You'll be supplied with directions tomorrow. I've tried to have details on the culprits divined but, to quote the resident shaman, the spirts are...difficult to understand at times. In other words he didn't find out crap, besides that they're somewhere in the heavily wooded area around the barrow dens."

"Taken? Well, I wasn't told what was looted, but there was something of a vault down there. Wall of roots protected it, until whoever went down there burnt through it. Setting up a ward like that is a big favour to ask of nature, so I'm guessing the elves had something valuable stowed away."

Firemane's brow furrowed as he considered what he'd just said. Perhaps he hadn't given the looting much thought until now?